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You are aware of it, in the corner of your eye, slowly seeping into you.
Closer, closer, it waits, and it hungers.
It’s so annoying when eye lashes fall into your eye.
Welcome to Night Vale.
Hello, listeners.
Acting under the assumption that I truly and deeply regret having to tell you of this, I go to the news. There have been reports of a new, strange, and potentially dangerous criminal plaguing our town. Witnesses report that there is a plump man, clad in a heavy red coat. Though permanently 19-year-old Jackie says that ‘red’ is not the best way to describe the thug’s attire. “It’s more like… scarlet. You know, the color of blood, when it’s almost dry, but still damp enough to smear.”
However, this hooligan’s only crime is not his gaudy garb. While dressed in this garish display of hate and un-American values, he breaks into people’s houses through their chimney. Lacking a chimney, he just…appears where a fireplace might approximately be. Once inside, he slinks through the chosen home, steals food, and leaves behind wrapped parcels of unknown contents. The City Council Established Handbook of Everyday Procedures and Sacrifices (the only book you are allowed to have, unless you are affiliated with the Scouts who have manuals) says that in cases where someone breaks into your home for unknown reasons, you are supposed to activate Class Seven booby traps. If they are coming to steal something the size of a child who is, oh… let’s say 8, you can activate Class Five booby traps. Stealing anything smaller than the approximate size of an 8 year-old child only calls for Class Two booby traps; though the one could argue either way, because children are not a good measure of counting. If someone breaks into your home and leaves something behind, evacuate immediately. It is probably dangerous and volatile. If someone breaks into your home, steals something approximately smaller than an 8-year-old, and leaves something behind, then you should get a new roommate, because this one sounds really lazy, and probably can’t keep up with their half of the rent.
While in most cases, the Handbook’s authority is absolute, this unique situation is an exception to the byzantine and flexuous laws. Due to the strangeness of the situation, citizens are urged to activate Class Ten booby traps, which haven’t been used since the Blood Space War spread briefly into our town last week. If the Crimson Criminal manages to evade your traps, then you should update them. If he has evaded your traps, and left one of the parcels in your home, call the Girl Scouts. “They have been trying to get their Disposal patch, and this seems like the perfect exercise.” Scout Master Helen says, “It’s good to start with small stuff, like potential bombs, then work our way up to bodies, and people who didn’t vote correctly for the City Council.”
So say thanks to the Girl Scouts next time you accidentally catch a glimpse of one of their flickering shadows. If you have any information about The Man in The Red Coat, you should alert the Girl Scouts by telling your shade to initiate Procedure 12. Remember, you should not know what procedure 12 is. If anyone has any information, please get in contact with the Girl Scouts. I sincerely hope we will catch this strange criminal soon, before the parcels or man do intractable damage.
Carlos says that I should be less prejudiced against interlopers. After all at one point, he was new to this town. But even my kind, compassionate, genius, handsome, amazing, boyfriend would probably find the behavior this Crimson criminal is exhibiting, distasteful.
Speaking of Carlos, I have some news. It turns out that Carlos has family. Family that he actually knows, and hasn’t been erased from his mind. And listeners , they are coming to visit.
Carlos said that they –they being his mom, dad, and two brothers- sent a letter addressed to the science lab. It said that they missed him, and hadn’t seen him in a long time. The message went on to say that they would be coming soon to see how he’s doing. Now, I don’t want to be that person who complains about their partners’ family on air (I’m nothing if not professional), but I think they seem… pushy? I don’t want to judge them too harshly; they must be good people to have raised and been raised alongside Carlos, but… they haven’t seen him in years. And then, out of the blue, they send a letter with no return address, and no way to arrange or compromise the meeting.
Am I just being too sensitive about it? For a while now, I have been the only one around that loves him and is loved by him. Maybe I am subconsciously jealous of the thought that there are others out there who care about him, not in the same way, but just as fiercely as I do. I don’t know, listeners. And I worry.
And now a word from our sponsor.
You are lying in your bed, and the night is not quiet. You can hear a dog barking somewhere off in the distance, crickets chirping outside, the air conditioner switch on, and the slight breeze that pushes against your window. Or is that the breeze?
You look over to the closest window. The curtain that covers the thin glass means that whatever might be out there cannot see you. It also means that you cannot see it. You are suddenly hyper-aware. Is that a creek of the stairs? Is- is your doorknob turning? Your breath comes out quicker. What are you going to do?
Well, it’s too late for you. For everyone else, don’t end up like that idiot. Get a 2016 Toyota Camry for only your firstborn’s first laugh. Toyota: Run. Ride. Drive. Go before it is too late.
Listeners, we have an update on the Man in the Red Coat. New information has come to light on how he manages to go from house to house without the street cameras picking up on him. And the answer is surprisingly not invisibility. The criminal travels between houses on a flying sleigh.
This is not so surprising, you might say. Grandpa used to travel everywhere on a flying sleigh. Your inner voice might darken a little as you continue. Before he was consumed by the Floating Forest.
Or you might not. Maybe your grandfather never traveled on a flying sleigh. I don’t know.
What I do know, is that it is not the sleigh that is unusual. It is the fact that the sleigh is pulled 8 reindeer.
This is a crime, shocking in its cruelty. There are some animals that enjoy being near and interacting with humans; but any sub-species or genetic cousin of deer are not among these. They deserve to be free, and shackling them to a cart-like sled that looks as though it could fly on its own, is animal cruelty, pure and simple. Especially since reindeer have heavy fur coats, and should not be in the heat like this.
I’m sending Intern Brittany down to the Deer District so that she can get some statements about this atrocity, because she is the only person I know who speaks fluid Deer-ish. When I told her this, she just sighed and put her head in her hands briefly. Then she stood and said, “I don’t even care anymore.” before walking out. I’m not sure if she’s going to get the statements or not. I’m not sure what it is with interns now days.
Let's have a look at the Community Calendar.
On Sunday, every window in Night Vale will revert to its natural state. This means that if you happen to be standing next to a window, you will feel a slight swell of heat that slowly increases until you feel the skin start to slide off your bones. Even as you melt into a malleable glob, and possibly combust, the window will fall into a pile of sand. The windows will be back to normal by about two or three in the afternoon; though you should probably stay in the windowless bunker under your house until at least 3:25, just to be safe.
On Monday, you will get up like you normally do. You will do your normal Monday morning activities and routines. Everything will be normal. Completely and utterly unremarkable. There will be a vague hint of unease through ordinariness, however. But this twinge of old instinct has been slowly beaten out of you by the monotony of everyday life. And so you will ignore it. Until it is too late.
You aren’t going to remember anything I’m going to say about Tuesday, so I’ll just not talk about Tuesday.
Wednesday is Small Business Day; were we all forgo shopping at big chains and corporate giants, so we can spend our money at smaller businesses that might be struggling to get by. It’s a great way to give back to the community; so head over to the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, where Lane Five is unblocked, so you can visit the tiny Underground City. Just avoid stepping on anyone; we wouldn’t want a repeat of the Apache Tracker fiasco.
Thursday is half-off at the Moonlite All Nite Diner. Normally, a Thursday will cost about $20, but this Thursday will only cost you $10.
There’s not anything particularly interesting happening this Friday, in our isolated bubble. There is plenty of interesting things happening on the rest of the planet, and in the rest of the universe. Just not here. You know how it is.
On Saturday, there is a mandatory festival in Mission Grove Park. It is that time when the lights above Arby’s descend and choose payment for floating above us and looking pretty. Remember, the lights can take anything, and seemingly have no preference: sentient, non-sentient, ugly, beautiful, cheap, or expensive. You must bring with you, items 2, 11, 13.2, pi and omega, from your List of Most Important Possessions, so the lights have a wider range of items to choose from.
Okay. Now that I’ve got all that stuff out of the way, I can get back to what you really want to hear about.
Carlos was a bit upset that I suggested his family might be pushy, on air. I suppose that I wasn’t that tactful, but I always express my thoughts that way. For one thing, it makes it easier for the Thought Police to do their job. And, it also makes everything seem so much… simpler, I guess? When I have to explain everything to you guys, it straightens out my mind, and I can think clearly.
I explained this to Carlos and he was a bit more understanding. He also admitted that the way the letter was worded sounded forceful and rude. Though he also said that it was probably because it has been so long since he got in contact with his family. In fact, he hasn’t seen or spoken to any of them since he first came to Night Vale. Carlos then came to a startled realization: “I never told them that I was coming to Night Vale. I didn’t even know that I was coming to Night Vale. I have no idea how they could possibly have my address, because I know for a fact that Night Vale does not exist on any maps or directories. There’s not even maps in Night Vale that can show all of Night Vale at once. They shouldn’t even be able to think about Night Vale without ever have been to Night Vale or one of its sister cities. Wow. I’m saying Night Vale a lot.” He and I then had a delightful and thought-provoking conversation about word usage and sentence structure.
But he had a good point. How did they know about Night Vale? How did they find the address? I didn’t want to say this in front of Carlos, so I’m going to tell the entire town instead. Is it possible that his family isn’t actually his family? Might they be clones that have been altered so their minds can comprehend the amazingness of our delightful town? Or maybe they are World Government agents who have been briefed on our town and are imposters? Or, going a step farther, might they be shape-shifters from the Rift that are fleeing the Blood Space War in their home planet and dimension?
Or, am I once again, letting my insecurities and nervousness about meeting my boyfriend’s family transform me into a paranoid jerk?
I’ve never actually been in a relationship where I met the people who raised my partner. Most naturally-born people in Night Vale have… estranged relationships with their family.
For example, I have no idea if I ever met my father, or even if he existed. He might have been a figment dreamed up by my mother- I might not even have a second parent. This puts a bit of a strain on our relationship. My mother and I parted ways when I was 18 which was quite a while ago. So long ago… So, so very long ago. In fact- (BEEP-retracted). I remember at one point, I had a brother. He was a bit of an ass at times, but isn’t that the purpose of siblings? When the mirror fiasco happened (BEEP-retracted). Now I have a sister. I know that I love her very much, and the love I have for my niece Janice is incalculable. But I don’t remember how I got a sister, or even what her name is-(BEEP-retracted).
So maybe I’m just intimidated by whole and completely functioning families.
But they can’t have been completely functioning if they spent three years (or more. Time is weird) without knowing where Carlos was, mind shields blocking it from outsiders be damned!
Wow. I’ve told you all so much. I guess what it boils down to is that I’m nervous. Nervous of making a fool of myself. Nervous of these other people who my boyfriend loves, not liking me. But I’ll get through this. I’ll get through this by Carlos’s side, because I love him. And that is enough.
Urgent news!
The Deer District, which Intern Brittany went down to earlier, has risen up in both protest and violent mobs searching for retribution.
The Red Coated Man, who is using reindeer as his personal slaves, is the object of the searching. Apparently, as the man goes into houses to carry out his nefarious plots, he leaves the reindeer attached to the sleigh, on top of roofs. They do not get breaks, and while waiting for the man to finish his criminal actions, are left in the hot desert sun. As the treatment of the reindeer has come to light, even farther vendetta-fueled rage has spread. The Deer are outraged on behoof of creatures similar in appearance and mannerisms.Their protests have taken form of stampedes and several citizens have already fallen beneath their hooves. They refuse to stop their riots until the Crimson Criminal is found and brought to justice.
One of the people who died was Intern Brittany, who apparently was actually trying to get statements. Good job, and thank you for your hard work! Of course, now you’re dead, so your labor wasn’t actually that successful. To the family and friends of Brittany, know that she died serving the noble cause of Community Radio.
And I actually, truly regret that circumstances have led me to the point where I have to say this. Because even as the Deer were rightfully rioting against unfair treatment of their kind, on the other side of town, tragedy befell Night Vale. The Cardinal Coated Thug was apparently placing his potentially dangerous parcels in Old Woman Josie’s house when she was away. He was just about to leave, but was startled by Josie’s untimely arrival. He snapped the reindeer’s reins too quickly.
And ,before Josie could react, she was run over.
Before, I might have maybe been able to forgive this criminal for his crimes, had he immediately unleashed the beasts he had mind washed, and offered his own servitude to them for as long as he had kept them leashed. But now, he has attacked one of our own. He has plowed over a defenseless old woman with no provocation other than her returning to her own home.
I am angry, listeners. Such a violent and terrible person must be brought to justice in an equally violent and terrible way, because that is how justice works. The deer are already working to provide this fairness. The rest of Night Vale must work for it too. What are we, if we do not stand together? What are we, if we refuse to tear down perceived ‘bad people’ based entirely on our anger, and punish them as we see fit, without any due process? Weaklings! Cowards!
If he would attack Old Woman Josie, who knows what such an atrocious menace might do? Who might be his next victim? Listeners, we should all-
(CRASH)
What was that?
Listeners, I thought that I was alone in the Station. But now, I’m not sure. I- I see movement outside of the recording booth.
I see red fabric.
Listeners, I am going to take down this heinous, hateful, hooligan. I am going to get justice for the slaved reindeer, and Old Woman Josie.
I am going to take you, to the weather.
(Chiron Beta Prime, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3DyxaCYlfg)
Well, listeners, that turned out both better and worse than I was thinking it would. I thought I would be able to overwhelm him because of my (BEEP-retracted) powers; and because he seemed so harmless. But I had forgotten that this was a ruthless thug. And he took advantage of my gullibility.
When I tried to grab his arms so I could tie them with the rope I always carry with me, using the knots that I learned in Boy Scouts, he punched me in the face. Then, he clobbered me over the head with a huge sack of what seemed to be the potentially dangerous parcels. I was understandably discombobulated, and the man was already almost through the Station’s chimney.
But, I had updated my booby traps to Class Ten.
I pressed a button on the wall that was hidden behind a vase. As I did so, dark magic flowed through the chimney, forming a smoke-like cage that could somehow physically contain the man. The walls hummed menacingly, and I realized that it was because I had forgotten to say thank you. I did so, and the walls hummed pleasantly. Never fail to remember the difference that manners can make.
Shortly after the man was caged, the deer showed up to take the criminal away. They surrounding the cage of dark magic and shapeless shadows and, using Jaw of Deer, bit through the super natural (lactose free!) wizardry. They then knocked out the Crimson Criminal and carted him off to the Deer District.
Old Woman Josie is expected to make a full recovery, with the help of non-angels, all named Ericka. The Definitely Not Angels used powers gifted to them by Definitely Not (screaming noise) to draw energy from the Man in the Red Coat, and give it back to Josie. She might even be healthier after this than she was before, said an indeterminate voice in my head, just now.
And, what you’ve all actually been waiting for.
The Matter of Carlos’s Family.
Well, as it turns out, they aren’t coming.
There is a sentient creature that lives under the steps of Carlos’s science lab. I have always known of its existence, but never thought to ask its name, as it hurts my head to think about too closely. This turned out to be a major mistake- its name was Carlos. And it has two brothers and a mother and a father. Who were all coming to visit because they visit The Carlos (not My Carlos) every other month. They had skipped last month due to an unexpected birth and felt as though they needed to make it up to The Carlos who was feeling lonely. They actually weren’t forceful or pushy beings- they were just caring and guilty. This makes more sense than any of the theories I had come up with- thanks to Occam’s razor, we know that the simplest explanation is usually true, unless dealing with complicated situations or matters. I should have guessed that there was another being called Carlos who spent most of their time in the science lab and had two brothers and two parents who they hadn’t seen in some time. Silly me!
My Carlos and I both felt slightly guilty. We had both jumped to conclusions, and had been snappish to each other since the letter came in. But he forgave me after hearing my confession about my insecurities that was on air, on the mandatory radio station that he had to listen to. I forgave him, because it is okay to defend those who you love, even if it was a just simple case of mistaken identity and not actually the ones that you love.
We both had a long talk including some serious matters that I’m not going to share with you because it would not be professional.
But I will share this: After our discussion, we sat together. On the same couch, both leaning up against each other, and sharing warmth. We faced a fireplace which was lit and was twinkling merrily with flame and only the slightest traces of dark magic. It was not silent and it was not loud. It was… peaceful. Listeners, I was happy.
It is so rare that we get to relax in the same space with our loved ones, with no immediate problems or even fortunes to distract us from the most basic of joys that come with this relaxation. When it comes, you must treasure it.
And listeners, after a day like we have all had, with animal abusers and riots and injuries, it is especially important to tell your loved ones that you love them.
Now, as I gaze up into the mostly void of the universe, I feel so, so very small.
It is not a bad feeling.
Good night, Night Vale. Good night.